


Director's Cut

by name_lyrics



Series: the looking glass [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, Persona 5 Protagonist Has A Palace, Persona 5 Protagonist Needs a Hug, Persona 5: The Royal, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, akira blames himself over engine room, palace comes from yalda bad ending, will add characters as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27866506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/name_lyrics/pseuds/name_lyrics
Summary: A series of one-shots based around Akira having a Palace on Yalda's bad ending.Palace Keywords: Akira Kurusu, Leblanc, Theater.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: the looking glass [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014057
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70





	1. Engine Room's Safe Room

**Author's Note:**

> Most are chronologically out of order! But don't worry, basically all you need to know is Akira has two shadows (one based on "Joker" and the other based on "Akira"), I'll provide any other context you'll need in the notes or summary of the chapter. 
> 
> Also, if you want to know how the original trip to the Palace goes, [here you go!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553981/chapters/67392928#workskin) .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a battle like the engine room's, a trip to the nearest safe room is needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ann POV

Two swift shots across the wall, and suddenly silence took its reign.  
She turned to Oracle, asking what happened beyond what they could see.  
"His signal, it's…” Oracle trailed off “gone"  
...So that was it.  
Shido's puppet did it's job.  
You'd think that the one to cause such a stir would have had his ending be grand.  
His final request to them- to _Joker,_ more like- echoed in her mind.  
_"Change Shido's heart…”_  
He could have joined them.  
_“In my stead…”_  
Empathizing felt wrong.  
_“....end his crimes…"_  
He was to blame for most of Futaba and Haru's troubles, after all. Not to even get started on how he'd tried to manipulate everyone,  
_"Please!"_  
Or how the goal of that plan was to murder her leader and frame it as a suicide, a sadistic joy leaking out of the eavesdropped phonecall.  
_"You better deliver your promise."_  
And yet Akira didn't seem to remember this, or wasn't troubled by it if he did.  
He stared well past the door, eyes wide and focused on something she couldn't decipher.  
Was he searching for a sign? Or was he just registering Futaba's words?  
She wasn't the only one to catch on about the boy.  
He didn’t seem to notice this though.  
His expression changed.  
He looked displeased.  
No, displeased didn't fit right...  
The wind outside whistled through the vents.  
"...We should go."  
Queen’s voice only briefly broke his attention, taking a sharp breath and commanding "Mona, Panther, Fox, you're first waves”.  
She nodded with the other two, and all four leaped back to the vent outside, Oracle’s ship following close behind.

* * *

A small group of goat-headed demons blocked their path. Out of reflex, Panther moved to formation and waited for orders, but nothing came.  
Instead, she heard a dark mutter to her side.  
"I don't have the time for this"  
She turned to the source, and found Joker, face completely blank, summoning a blinding bird.  
Golden cards shuffled around the enemy, and in moments they were gone.

* * *

Joker held the safe room door for them while waiting for the second wave to arrive.  
Once everyone was inside, he closed it behind him and sat down on the near table, taking his notebook out without a word. He gave instructions.  
"You're free to heal. Use whatever items you want, keep hands off the Somas though” the grip on his pen steadily tightened “Spells are allowed too, just make sure to have enough energy left to make it to the Treasure Room and leave the Palace."  
Save for Akira, everyone took off their masks and quietly went on the usual process.  
His mouth remained a straight line, too neutral to give out anything, writing away on the pages. She watched him, and before she could begin to wonder about what he wrote, or when he even got hands on the journal, he closed it. He didn't stand up to supervise nor to take care of his own wounds (one could argue he was the most injured), he just rested his chin on clasped hands, sat stiff as everyone else moved to start casting spells, enough so where he was almost shaking. Despite the mask, she could still see his irises. Deadly silver adorned them, a sight she had only seen in battles that nearly caused them to retreat, and even then they had always been accompanied by a triumphant smile.  
‘Displeased’ was definitely not the right word. _Furious_ fit much better.  
She suddenly understood why he wore glasses in the real world.

* * *

Part of her wished Akechi could have joined them, she thought while melting ice shards stuck near her shoulder. She would have been more than glad to help exact revenge on the man who ruined the lives of many, just like she had with Kamoshida. Of course, not to the point of killing him, she was still firm on the idea that there were worse fates, and for Shido that was granted: he'd be not only living in infinite guilt, he would bear the blood of who knows how many lives, including his own son's. Even without counting all he had done to Akechi, he was still entirely to blame for Joker's own unlucky path as well. For that alone, she was ready to let the current plan go through.

* * *

She took another worried glance at the thief. He still hadn't moved, lost in thought.  
_"You're not satisfied with where we left it either, are you?"_  
Something happened between them while nobody was watching.  
_"Isn't this what you really wanted?"_  
Whatever it had been, it was enough to warrant a loss of composure, even if just a hint of it.  
Beyond resentment for the same person, or belonging to separate sides of the story, they both cared about what happened to the other, for better or worse.  
Upon further thought, it made sense that Akechi would hold so much against him: Akira had been thrown against infinite obstacles in just the past few months, and he somehow brushed it all off like it was nothing - _enjoyed_ it, even. He found people he could call friends who stood by him, not to mention how naturally talented he was.  
_"How does someone like you have things I don't?!"_  
Akechi had the talent and ability, he'd proven that already, and yet he was still trapped. To him, Akira was probably a living reflection of everything he could have been if things had been different. Of course he hated that.

She wondered how Akira had received that realization. Humbled? Offended that someone would wish for his luck? Or maybe regretful, wishing he could have shared that luck for the better?  
He was the first to offer Akechi to join them, he likely wanted to help him, yet he was cut off by Akechi himself, sacrificing where he was given the option to strike.

* * *

"Do you think he'll be ok?" she mouthed to Makoto, who was lacing bandages around her wrist.  
She knew what she meant.  
"...I hope so." she mouthed back.

* * *

Nobody dared to use their voice. 

* * *

The bloodstains on Joker's coat were gone.

* * *

He finally stood up.  
"Let's go."  
Normally, this phrase would be delivered optimistically.

* * *

She felt sorry for the shadows that bumped into them on the way to the Treasure Room. Joker didn't bother entertain them, he either sprinted past them or got rid of them in a single move.

* * *

When they actually got to the Treasure Room, his view was unfocused as Makoto and Morgana gave the usual warnings and explanations.

Right as they finished, Joker talked "We still have time before the due date. We'll probably send the calling card sometime this week, could go between the day after tomorrow or Sunday, I'll let you know."

All that was left was to wait.


	2. Velvet Room, About Akechi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night of the engine room. Akira has things to say to the Velvet Room residents.

He felt the cold of the stone bed, the sudden heavy on the lower side of his leg. The swaying sounds of chains clinging to each other, almost quiet with the echoes of a familiar melody. 

It wasn't normal to be summoned in his sleep. Usually, something worthy of noting or discussing would happen. The only thing he could come up with was the only thing of his mind, but why would _they_ care? To lecture him? To tell him everything he already knew? That his death was his fault? That he's _gone_ because of his own inaction? That he could have _done_ something, shot at the cognition and prevent the loss of a life that could have been saved? As if every waking moment since he heard the gunshot hadn't been a constant replay of everything he should have done differently- 

Justine's voice rang in his ears.

"Inmate."

He didn't bother move, the roof seemed friendlier to him anyway.

"What do you need?" 

The roof’s marble was shaded blue.

"Whatever you have to say, _say it_ "

Nothing.

Were they trying to taunt him? 

He sighed, taking a slow breath to try and maintain the little composure he had left. 

He finally sat up, realizing the long-nosed man wasn't behind his desk this time. 

"I was told that if something were to happen to me, I would stay here forever. Does the same apply to him?" 

Both looked outward to the rest of the prison, anywhere that wasn’t where the only human was.

Caroline answered,

"The Velvet Room takes shape based on the user, thus is tailored for one person, and one person alone." 

Of course it was. 

"Then what happened to him?"

"That is a realm we cannot discuss." 

"Why not?" 

Not a sound. 

He stood.

"What of the MetaNav?"

He walked, steadily pulling the weight behind him.

"Why did you give it to him?" 

It was as if they couldn't hear him. He continued as if they did. 

"The Nav was given to me as a means to prevent 'ruin', and those who are my allies gained it as well." 

His patience was dwindling. 

Without knowing, he raised his voice,

"Then _why_ did you let this happen?!"

The blue tint of the prison began changing. 

"Why did you give them all a gateway to _murder_?"

They heard him this time,

"Do you even know how much damage that's done?" 

and yet their eyes focused on their surroundings

"Or do you mean to tell me that _people dying_ is part of the plan to prevent 'ruin'?"

watching as the air turned red, as the floor created seats 

"Or are you doing this just for fun, to see how much you can get from me?!" 

and listening to the serene piano fade 

"I've put so many people in constant danger and yet you still make me do this-"

the weight on his leg was gone, wings begged to be set free and yet chains on his wrists tied him.

"His blood is on my hands and yet you do nothing!" 

Silence.

Justine whispers "Akira-" 

"Does it make you happy?" 

No response.

A devastated, hopeless laugh echoes across the walls.

" _Does it make you happy to see me like this?!"_

"Akira-" 

A pair of tinted yellow eyes meets theirs, filled with anger and grief.

" **_ANSWER ME!_ **"

"That's enough!" 

_BANG_

* * *

He could barely breathe, his heart was about to pop out.

What happened? 

He put a hand to his chest, trying and failing to control the spiking pulse. 

His vision adjusted, as much as glassy eyes could adjust anyway. He found himself sitting in his bed. The tools desk was still there, and so was his chair. He was in the attic. 

Morgana was nowhere to be seen, probably having adventures outside. 

He put his knees to his chest, hoping the small warmth would take away the cold, in a weak attempt to shield himself. 

_You did nothing, and now his blood is on your hands._

A repeated, crying whisper saying 'I'm sorry' was the only noise to be heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the play script on Akechi's preparation room in the Palace btw! If you haven't gotten to that part yet or I haven't updated to that point, you'll see what I'm talking about soon enough ;)


	3. Akechi finds out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set midway through third -semester (post-palace). Title is self-explanatory. also they have their rematch and akira gets close to relapsing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I want Akechi to Actually Find Out in 2/2, think of this as an AU of the AU.

The cold, metal point of the thief's knife was almost brushing his chest, in the same place where a bullet had gone through before. During that frozen split-second, he wondered if it would hurt, or if it would be quick and painless like the last thing that got him killed. He didn't know whether to laugh at the irony: the person he had pointed a gun to, the one he had sacrificed himself for, was going to be the one to finish him. At the same time, it was somewhat reassuring to know he wasn't the only one beyond repair. 

* * *

Kurusu had approached him in Kichijoji as he stood idle by the entrance to the Penguin Sniper (why he found himself there, he didn't know. Before, the alleyway beside it was dark enough to read requests Shido sent him undetected, all while being close to places he could go to, but now it served no purpose. Perhaps to keep some sense of "normalcy"? Either way, it didn't matter). 

He had been surprised by the idea that this busy boy wanted anything to do with him. He knew as far as the one in front of him had better things to do, like talking to all the connections that would give him extra benefits in the Metaverse, or calling Sumire to help her get back to a stable state, or even shopping for supplies. Akechi had to be the last in his priorities list, and yet here he was, face-to-face with him.

He didn't try to indulge his words. Unless it was something that meant life or death (and even then he would be hesitant), whatever excuse the highschooler had to talk to him wasn't worth Kurusu's time.

That is what he had decided until he saw a familiar glove leave the busy boy's pocket. 

Now that he looked back on it, it wasn't the wisest idea to accept the rematch. They both had an important mission, the same goal even, why waste their energy? Regardless, they had both promised each other this night, and neither of them would be happy if they didn't go through with it.  _ To satisfy your ego once and for all _ , he had told himself. 

The train rides to Shibuya weren't anything like the trains they had taken to Odaiba. Back then, they were the only people who weren't smiling with glee, talking about their new job or the lottery they had just won. All of those conversations just felt like white noise behind their silence, still pondering what they would do if they lost. 

Now, there was a different air to the subway. It was late into the night, everyone else was either sleeping or looking at their phones. Nobody seemed troubled, but the two's happiness as they enjoyed quiet conversation (or well, enjoyed quiet yet playful shit-talking) didn't blend with the rest, it was probably the only joy that was  _ genuine _ . For a moment, Akechi even wondered if they had finally submitted to Maruki's spell.

As they got off their final train, they didn't even bother to leave the station. They activated the Nav where they stood, both with mischievous smiles crawling across their faces as they switched to codenames. 

That rematch left more injuries than all of their fights in the doctor's palace combined. 

Contrary to the silent sensation that something was wrong and hating it, chaos reigned among the red walls, criminal laughter echoing through the many floors. They flew past several staircases, slashing by passerby shadows as mere collateral damage. He  _ loved  _ it, and judging by face, the other did too. 

He wasn't sure of how much time had passed before he became conscious of his situation. Usually he wouldn't last this long fighting, even on his own, but the rush from losing and gaining the advantage was addicting. He didn't know what either of their limits were, and sometimes it felt like there wasn't one. 

As their duel- their rampage across Mementos- went on, he had stopped thinking. Of course, he thought of immediate strategies to knock his rival off his feet, of ways to devastate his opponent, but he never heard those words or ideas speak in his mind, nor did his sheer bloodlust ever echo along with them. The one making spells, daggers and bullets fly around him was the same. 

All it took to take him out of this cycle was to watch the eyes behind the black and white mask flicker with an eerily familiar shade of yellow. 

That was the first time he'd been truly taken off-guard that night, but at first he quickly brushed it off as the constant movement getting to him, maybe he'd gone slightly dizzy or had confused a Persona's eyes with the thief's. He couldn't afford to be distracted. 

But it kept happening. With every instance he passed the thief's eyes, he'd find that same color that made Metaverse creatures different from the rest. 

In an opportunity he found to slam the wildcard against a wall and trap it with Loki's sword, he leaned in as close as he could to the boy's face to verify what he saw. 

He witnessed the pupils of his rival almost  _ glow  _ with their new color. 

Mementos fell silent.

Whatever emotion the black mask had felt beforehand was gone, he was dead serious now. 

"Joker." he stood firm. The yellow-eyed thief had heard him, yet didn't register that he was going to try to communicate something. 

"Getting tired,  _ Crow _ ?" he says tauntingly, breaking eye contact to look right. 

He let go of him just in time to jump, a trio of sharp swords would have hit him otherwise.

The laughter of someone who'd gone insane came back roaring as they broke the few moments of inaction. Crow didn't join, instead he felt a subtle ring in his ears warning him that something was wrong. 

Instead of fighting to do his worst, he fought to keep the other person still long enough to turn him back to his regular self. 

As Crow started to actually think again -as he started to think about what would happen if he lost the one person who could destroy this false reality- he started taking longer to react to what was being thrown at him, as well as throwing an attack back. 

A few floors later, the pain from all of the freshly-made wounds started to kick in. He missed an opening to attack and got knocked to the nearest wall. Before he could pick himself up, a long, colorful rope-like animal looped around each of his arms, holding him to the air.

As his vision re-adjusted to what was in front of him, he saw the masked figure from afar. He figured this was his chance to talk, even if he was the one trapped. 

"Joker, you need to stop" a part of him was humiliated, it was practically admitting defeat. Even still, his vision narrowed to the thief's eyes. 

"Do I?" somehow, his smirk hadn't left him yet. 

"Yes, you-" the mirror image of a Shadow was taking out his knife and lunging towards him. 

Even as he knew what was coming, he held the other's vision, watching his eyes flicker back to grey and widen as he realized.

The dagger was hovering over the wound that had gotten him killed last time. Even if it never actually touched it, he felt it start to burn. 

* * *

Akira stepped away immediately, dropping his dagger to the ground. 

The snake-like shadow carefully put him back down. 

He wondered what was it that caused him to leave that crazed state, he had barely gotten a few words in. 

He stood up, and realized Akira had left. He tried calling for him, but no response. 

His entire body felt like it was going to disintegrate. And somehow, he still had the energy to intimidate a Valkyrie into carrying him back to the entrance (not that it took too much effort, his name was known in Mementos and the damage they'd just caused had earned him extra points in his favor). 

* * *

Walking out of the subway's staircase, the sun was threatening to show. None of his clothes were tainted with blood, his wounds probably weren't physically there (they still hurt like hell though). At the very least, he could last another day without looking like the murderer he was. 

He withstood the increasing ache as he mentally looked through the places he could go: a clinic Kurusu had recommended to him in Yongen to go get himself checked, to his apartment to fall asleep as soon as he stepped foot inside, or Leblanc to find Kurusu (if he was even there). 

His half-knocked out mind figured that the last option was probably the best: if Kurusu wasn't there, he could go to the clinic after getting himself coffee (and quietly hoped that Kurusu would let him sleep on his sofa, he wasn't sure if he could make it to his apartment without passing out, but that was the least important). 

It took effort not to fall asleep in his seat on the subway. He took out his phone, if only to avoid letting his eyes catch up.

Monday, January 16th, 20XX

IM 

Akira Kurusu

Are you okay?  _ 6:37AM _

Where are you?  _ 6:37AM _

No response.

I'm on my way to Leblanc, I better see you there  _ 6:42AM _

The messages delivered, so at least he wasn't inside the Metaverse. All he could do was wait until he got to the cafe to talk to him. 

* * *

He heard the chime by the door as he entered the cafe. None of the lights were on, although the little light shining through the glass let him tell the furniture apart. 

A black cat came rushing down the stairs, and somehow flipped the main light on. Morgana jumped, not expecting the tired figure in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" the cat meow.

Was he really about to admit to what they had both just done?

He tried forcing a smile "...I came to check in on your friend is all" he needed to practice his detective act "We have an important mission to take care of, no?" 

The cat didn't buy it "Drop the act"

He sighed "We went into Mementos, but that's all I can tell you." 

"And that is because...?" was the cat always this irritating or was he just exhausted? 

He stayed silent. 

"He's asleep, there's not much you can do right now" The cat jumped to the counter "Did the shadows become too much for you to handle?" 

If he had the energy, he would have laughed at the question, but he smirked instead. "Quite the opposite, actually." 

"Then…?" 

"How much has he told you about the outings he's had with me?" 

Morgana said nothing, though seemed to know enough, his expression changed to worry, likely connecting the mental dots.

"You can stay and wait until he wakes up, or go to Takemi's if you want. I can probably look for a paper saying that you're going on Akira's recommendation so she doesn't charge you much." The cat turned headed for the stairs. 

At least he got part of what he wanted. 

As he got to the first step, Morgana stopped. "I don't know what happened, but remember that Akira had a palace for a little bit. If something happened and you don't know why, there's a chance it's related to that." 

* * *

Palace. 

He must have heard Morgana wrong, right? 

The word made him forget whatever tiredness he had beforehand. Not to be mistaken, he could very well pass out at any given moment, but at least he had something to distract him from that notion. 

As the cat gave him a paper and explained that Kurusu gave it to his friends whenever the Metaverse injuries were worse than usual, he tried to come up with a way to bring his last comment back up. What did he mean by  _ Palace _ ? He found many ways to word the same question, yet didn't utter any of them, still hesitant on whether or not he wanted to know the answer. 

While making his way to the clinic, he found it hard to wrap his head around the words  _ Palace  _ and  _ Kurusu.  _ The words were related in a way where the second would get rid of the first, not create it (and much,  _ much  _ less that the first caused harm to the second, but that one was even harder to believe). 

He tried to imagine how it would happen, if it even happened. He kept track of the Phantom Thieves' every move until Shido's palace (well, save for the time where they tricked him with the interrogation room, but it isn't necessary to bring that up), so it couldn't have been before then. And in-between November 20th and the day where he should have died, they were busy infiltrating that bastard's ship, so it couldn't have been by then either. At the earliest, it would have been right after they finished changing Shido's heart  (he still had to thank them for going through with that...he'll figure something out later)  and at the latest right before the new year, when he eavesdropped a conversation about Kurusu turning himself in and, according to Kurusu, when the thieves had gotten rid of the Treasure of Mementos (he was curious to know how they would have even managed to multitask two palaces if that had been the case, especially since one as big as Mementos.)

Before he could continue to tell himself how impossible the idea of  _ Akira Kurusu  _ having a Palace sounded, he was in front of a small staircase, presumably leading to the clinic he had been recommended. 

Thankfully, the place was open and he was the only client. He approached the counter, and the practitioner raised her eyebrows. He handed her over the paper without a word. As she read it, she spoke to him: 

"Aren't you that kid that appears on TV? Why do you need to come here?" 

He tried to pose his calm and collected self. It went smoother than how it went with Morgana, but it could still use improvement.

"A friend of mine recommended the place." 

"Is this friend of yours named Akira Kurusu by chance?" She folded the paper and gave it back to him. 

_ He’s the reason I’m here  _ "Yes." 

The door next to him clicked open. 

"Come in, can't wait to see what unexplained injuries you have." her tone didn't match her words. 

* * *

Reflexes were shouting at him to run, even if the result would pay off in his favor. This came to no surprise as he was letting himself be vulnerable about nothing less than every single scar on his skin. To distract from the impulse, he tried to engage in conversation. He learned that to pay off the medicine he used in the Metaverse, Kurusu had been helping her since April with clinical trials (how was he capable of trusting her intentions without being immediately suspicious of ulterior motives, he would never know). To match with what Morgana said, other people had come to her with that paper with similar physical problems, and she was yet to figure out how they got there. 

"Still, even if this  _ is  _ one of those mysteriously-appearing injuries, those are normally compressed into heavy bruises, like the rest you have, not scars of a wound that should leave you dead" in the end, what his father's cognition of him left behind was the most glaring.

She was surprisingly calm about it "a bullet through the chest…" she trailed off "A normal person shouldn't survive that." 

He was torn between saying that he was under  _ no _ circumstances ‘normal’ and explaining how it happened, but stayed silent in favor of shortening his time there. At least, it was further confirmation that for him breathing was a privilege.  _ A privilege I'm not particularly interested in,  _ he thought. 

Not long after the doctor finished her analysis, she handed him over painkillers he'd need. He used the chance to take some of them in the moment (which got rid of the burning sensation he'd been ignoring the last few hours, thankfully) and took some extra with him to give to Kurusu (she had correctly assumed the other one was going to need them as well). 

As he went through the morning cold, a conversation from a few days ago came to mind.

* * *

He had only met that girl for the first time that morning, she had made her way to Shujin Academy to explain their bizarre situation. Based on how everyone acted, the rest were familiar with her, yet Morgana and Kurusu were by far the most comfortable talking to her. He found her not too far from the Kichijoji station, she seemed to be guarding a blue door. Had it always been there? As far as he remembered, no, but for some reason it didn't look or feel out of place. He watched her as she stood statue still, aside from silver-white hair flowing with the light breeze. He wondered, how did any of them get to know her? Did they meet her in the Metaverse? She couldn't be from his world, he could tell as much. She was barely tall enough to reach the height of a child, yet seemed to possess intimate knowledge about the inner workings of the realm of shadows. She reminded him of a shadow he had fought, a girl that looked harmless at first glance but turned out to be a powerhouse (now that he thought about it, didn't Kurusu summon it during their rematch?). 

Before he knew it, his legs had moved for him and was now standing beside Lavenza, hoping that passerby didn't notice that he was going to talk to something that didn't exist in their eyes.

She was aware of his presence, yet didn't move to respond to it. 

"Goro Akechi," her gaze was focused on something he couldn't see "It's a pleasure to formally meet you." 

There wasn’t any point to holding a fake self. If she had as much insight as he thought, she would see through it instantly, and would know of all he's done.

"Is it?" 

"Of course." 

"Why so?" he turned his head toward her, even if their vision didn't meet "I've done horrible things." 

She smiled. It confused him, yet he was willing to be patient. 

"What's that smile for?" 

"You blame yourself over something that was the will of a god. Akira was the same too."

He didn't know which statement he wanted to bring attention to. 

"...What do you mean?" 

Her smile faded. "You were both pawns in a false god's game. If you won, humanity would be faced with ruin. If Akira won, humanity would be saved." she hesitated to continue "...Of course, this game was rigged in both sides."

Her words were meant to be well-meaning, yet… he didn't want to admit it, but it clicked, why else would any of them gain access to the Nav? 

Instead of coming to terms with it, he asked a question.

"What did this god do to Akira?"

"Make him believe that ruin could be avoided."

He felt something cold land in his hair. He picked it, discovering snow, though it only fell by bits. 

Lavenza let a snowflake land in her hand. She would have looked like a child in a Christmas storybook if not for the eyes of a Shadow. 

"I must apologize though, I wish I could have realized I was split in half sooner."

"'Split in half'?" He let another snowflake fall on the surface of his glove, pondering how such complex patterns could fit in something he could barely see. 

Lavenza explained how she had been aiding Kurusu in his journey from the start, but didn't know of any ulterior motives until recently, due to most of her memory having been erased, and she having her mind shared by two twins (Morgana's previous amnesia was because of a similar situation). She told him about the Velvet Room, a place whose entrance was the door she was watching over, where wildcards would go to manage their Personas (suddenly, Joker randomly zoning out in Palace entrances made more sense). She told him that this midpoint between his world and the Metaverse took shape depending on the guest's heart, how for Akira it was a prison, and how he'd only left his cell a few weeks prior. 

"It's strange, don't you think? You were fated to be enemies and yet, he still missed you." 

* * *

Nearing the door to the cafe, he tried again to make sense of what Morgana had said to him. " _ I don't know what happened, but remember that Akira had a palace for a little bit. _ " Did he mean the Velvet Room? It did take shape with the guest's heart after all. ...No, Morgana was meant to be a resident there, he knows the difference. And besides, the Velvet Room had been a place available since Akira moved to Tokyo, not for just "a little bit". 

For the time being, he gave up on the concept and opened the door regardless of the "CLOSED" sign on it. 

The cat forgot to turn off the light earlier, so he could still see most of the area surrounding him. If he hadn't just left the sidewalk outside, he would have thought it was still 4AM instead of mid-morning. 

He stood by the entrance not knowing whether to go upstairs and potentially face his rival, or to sit on a booth and wait to not intrude; though knowing he would likely lose control over his body and fall asleep the second he sat down (left perfectly for anyone to find later), he decided to go to the attic. 

He did his best to be as quiet as possible (as quiet as stepping by creaking steps could get) to not wake the boy up in case he was still asleep. The lights were off and the curtains were closed, yet slight sunlight passed through them. A heater was on as well, an orange glow was inside it. 

It was beyond tempting to lay down on the floor and not wake up, yet walked to the futon with several blankets. As expected, a raven-haired teenager was sleeping in it, and a black cat was curled up to him. 

They were peaceful.

"Kurusu." he whispered, hoping he was at least conscious. Neither of them heard him. 

He didn't want to interrupt Kurusu’s dreams, if he had any, so he carefully placed his bag of medicine and pills on the crafting table and finally laid down on the sofa, his body relieved.

He used his arms as a pillow and stared at the ceiling, within seconds his eyelids weighed tons. He hoped Akira would forgive him for sleeping here without letting him know. 

* * *

He was back in Mementos.

He was wearing his regular clothes. 

He heard the echo of an unmistakable laugh. It became louder and louder, until it was just a few meters behind him. Then it stopped, and the realm became dead silent. 

This had to be a dream, his body didn’t ache.

Carefully, he turned around to face the source. Had he moved an extra inch, a knife would be touching his neck. He felt no panic towards this. His eyes moved to the person holding the knife: someone who wore Akira's Metaverse clothes and had the same figure, yet lacked a body. A cartoon-like grin was drawn over where his mouth would be. The mask was still worn, and behind them were two cat-like pupils that were fixed on their prey. 

Akechi couldn't move, but Joker was frozen in time. 

"Do I know you?" 

Instead of answering, Joker's eyes widened and suddenly it was Kurusu in Shujin's clothes, still holding the weapon against him. His expression was panicked, yet his eyes remained unchanged and stayed in place. The only thing that moved were a pair of wings attached to the student's back, trying their best to pull him out but failing. 

The detective's eyes narrowed. Firm, he asked again: 

"Who are you?" 

A voice spoke. It was hard to hear, almost like his ears were underwater, but he knew that it was calling his name. He didn't dare to break the gaze of the one holding the knife. 

Just who was this person? 

He was identical to his rival, yet something about him seemed off. 

He didn't pull back the weapon, even if he clearly wanted to, and it wasn't like the detective could take steps back either. They were both stuck. The student appeared to be terrified of this.

* * *

Something in his mind flickered, and suddenly he was looking at the attic's ceiling. The voice calling for him became clearer, it belonged to Kurusu himself. 

"Akechi." 

While adjusting to the brightness, he turned his head to face the source.

Kurusu was squatting to look at him directly. He was wearing a black turtle-neck and had put his glasses on. His usual poker-face let a small, satisfied smile slip.

Then he stood up and headed for the staircase, and stopped when he reached it.

"Made you coffee"

_ How the fuck is he that composed?, _ he thought, shifting his head to look at the boy disappearing from view. 

He sighed and lifted himself up. The bag he'd left by the table was replaced by the small boxes and bottles that had been inside it. The curtains were open, the bed was neatly made. Kurusu had probably woken up a while before him. He took a glance to look at the rest of the small room: the crafting table had small dolls lined up on top of it, the shelves next to the bed were still filled with knick-knacks and decorations, a few of them he recognized from the meetings in November, some others were new. 

At the top corner sat a mask that mirrored the one Joker wore. 

He couldn't figure out why, but it unnerved him.

Before going downstairs, he checked if his phone was still in his pocket. It was the middle of the afternoon, he'd only gotten a few hours of sleep. The messages he sent earlier were left on read. 

Like promised, the barista had a cup of coffee waiting for him. He sat down, watching Kurusu perfect his craft (was he making more for the Metaverse?).

Instead of indulging the idle small-talk prompted for him, 

"Kurusu"

He met the boy's silver eyes, knowing his next words were going to be sharper than ice.

"You forgot to mention you had a Palace when you recapped what happened" 

If he had blinked, he would have missed the flash of widened eyes.

"What do you mean?"

Maybe if he wasn't trying to pry information, he would have laughed. The weakest attempt to deflect he'd ever seen. 

"Do you really think a question like that would faze me?" 

Kurusu breathes out, seemingly giving up. But instead of answering, he focuses on the siphon in front of him, losing himself in thought and dropping the conversation. 

"So?" he tries to drag him out of this.

"You're right, sorry about that." 

He serves another cup of coffee, this time for himself. He takes it and gets to Akechi's side of the counter, gesturing to one of the tables. 

Kurusu confirmed the facts: on the 24th, they'd infiltrated Mementos, but it ended with them fusing it with reality and fading away because of the lack of people acknowledging the Phantom Thieves' existence (this was something he was already aware of). To reverse this, he took a deal from his former 'mentor', who was truly the false god in disguise Lavenza had mentioned (he found it intriguing that he never spoke of the game they were both unaware they had been a part of, although brushed it off as it being irrelevant to the current story). With this deal, he developed a Palace. After Morgana noticing that things weren't right, the rest took action behind his back and changed his heart for him. He theorized that the events from the night before could have been a brief relapse as well.

He had thought that would be the extent of their conversation- the thief would fill the gaps, and leave the former detective to wonder what would drive him into distortion, or how exactly had it played out. 

Instead, he was given an idea. A plan to fill the night, if those were the correct words. 

It went like this: Kurusu wanted to get to know what his Palace had looked like, Morgana had given him the gist but wanted to see it all for himself. Lavenza had found a way to achieve this, but he didn't want to go alone. With everyone else other than him and Sumire having gone in already, and Sumire being too busy with her own problems, he offered for Akechi to come with. He accepted this without giving it too much second thought (even if he should have), and the "infiltration" would begin once they fell asleep. 

* * *

The night had started out by finally seeing what was behind the blue door- the Velvet Room. He wasn't too taken off guard by its appearance, but actually being there was different from hearing it: He was inside a cell of his own too. He heard the melody of a song whose singer or pianist was nowhere to be found, yet it felt like they were performing meters away. 

An empty desk sat in the middle, a familiar girl with a blue dress standing beside it. 

Next to his cell, he heard Kurusu's voice. It was greeting Lavenza. She greeted him back, and suddenly the door locking Akechi's cell was gone. He stepped out, wondering how Kurusu was in his thief clothes already. 

Once they both gathered at the center of the strange room, the attendant explained the rules of what would proceed:

  * As per usual, their goal is to reach the Treasure. 
  * Shadows will react to their presence.
  * Akira will not have any control or influence over Shadows, despite being the subject of the Palace.
  * The scenery will not resemble a dream. All senses will be present just like if it were a real infiltration, and fighting could very well be necessary. 
  * Time is not something for them to worry about. 
  * To ensure that neither will be at a legitimate risk, Lavenza will be keeping track of their health. If either reaches their limits before arriving at the Treasure Room she will pull them both out. 



And just like that, it started. A grandiose theater who's main guest was the leader of the Phantom Thieves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am gonna add a few one-shots from different sections of their infiltration (out of order but honestly that doesn't matter, I'll add context if needed).


	4. Rooftop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Set mid-third semester) Akira is resting in the Treasure Room, exhausted from the infiltration. Akechi decides to take the staircase leading to the rooftop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Practical to read previous chapter for more context/why and how Akira and Akechi are infiltrating post-Palace, but in short let's say it's via Lavenza shenanigans and Akira wanted to check the place out.

A cold breeze made its way to him. The rooftop didn't have any rails, if he decided to leap he would only have to start running. But instead, he stood still, receiving the starry, almost cloudless, night. 

A dark-winged figure sat at the edge, legs dangling. Black waves of hair, a uniform of a school he recognized. It was looking out to the city, quiet. A direct opposite of its counterpart. 

What would happen if he approached? Would it attack? Would it fly away? He didn't deserve to hear anything from it. 

Despite not announcing his presence, a wing folded. He took the hint, walking to the open spot, and sitting beside the distortion. Feathers unfolded back behind him, blocking any chance of returning.

Even with the gesture, the body of the boy himself hadn't moved or seemed to acknowledge Akechi was there. He risked a glance toward the Shadow: his arms were on his lap, faded chains tied to each of his wrists, passing through the roof's ground as if they were ghostly. Golden eyes were examining the lights of the world several floors below them. Akechi followed his gaze, looking to find whatever the other found so mesmerizing. Was it the contrast? Whatever sappy symbolism there was in finding glow in the cold dark? 

Time passed. He was watching a car move through the distance,

"Did you know you could see Mementos from here?" 

The car disappeared, though he could spot the subway entrance a few streets above. Red leaked out of it with thin stripes of black. 

He didn't reply. 

Akira - Akira's  _ Shadow _ \- continued as if he did. 

"There's so many Palaces…" he murmured, almost to himself "There's probably some even I can't see. I'm glad you can't see them." 

Silence again. The wings behind Akechi shifted as if their owner were taking a deep breath. Akira wanted to say something, yet words weren't leaving his mouth.

Akechi spoke instead, head turning to the Shadow. He had removed his mask in the Treasure Room and left it behind, allowing ruby eyes to meet gold. "What do you need to say?" 

The distortion turned away, facing the city once more. Just how clammed up was the stubborn thief for his  _ Shadow _ \- the  _ repressed _ version of himself- to be like this? Or was the other the one who filled that role? 

Before he could press, he received an answer. Or rather, a question:

"What do you make of this place?" 

Now it was his turn to be quiet. 

He didn't really have a response. 

He'd only observed what went on around him, watched how Akira analyzed and reacted to every detail. He'd made small-scale guesses and conclusions, but it was hard to pull everything together. 

_ The jester's expression vanished entirely. It revealed emptiness, nothing except a drawn-on smile and clothes somehow imitating his frame to replace any trace of life.  _

_ A sadistic laugh as Crow struggled to move by the chain's restraint, briefly watching his own soul turn against him and feeling true fear for the first time in years.  _

_ The winged student went owl-eyed the second his eyes met Crow's, almost as if he'd just seen a ghost. _

_ The ones forming the Phantom Thieves were all happily playing cards, as if they had nothing else to do than to enjoy that bliss.  _

_ The crowds all cheering for Kurusu's memories played before them.  _

_ The flash of panic - the flicker of forms - when Akechi asked the theater master how he felt, only to be given a laugh and a reassurance he could have believed.  _

_ The notes in each room, all as if there was some kind of mission to be accomplished. _

_ The actual thief's clothes becoming those of a prisoner not long after they stepped into the infinite blue, frail and weak and somehow still living past the catastrophes that followed.  _

_ 'It's my fault' _

"I don't know" was all he could say. 

Akira's eyes blinked shut. Another deep breath, this time shakier. 

"I'm sorry" he exhaled "It's...It's hard to look at you."

Akechi tilted his head, as if that were enough to ask why. 

"You don't look anything like he did in my dreams" His eyes didn't dare catch maroon again. They were far into the city, likely looking for an escape "You strayed from the scripts too, you...you're not a monster, either." 

"Of course I am" 

"No, that's…" He could swear he saw droplets in the corner of his eyes. Akira shook his head and moved, hands gripping the roof's edges and shoes going against the marble. 

Wings moved briskly, and the Shadow took off. 

He didn't notice he pushed Akechi off though. 

It was so quick, his mind went blank. He heard someone - probably Akira - yell his name, but it was distant. The blur was hard to make out, he could only do so much as turn so he wouldn't land face-first. 

The wind stopped, and now he was caught in the Shadow's arms. 

The sound of wings flapping in place were the only thing Goro could hear. 

The Shadow bore straight into his eyes, for some reason owl-eyed  (scared) and tears were rolling down his cheeks. Goro could feel the Shadow's chest rise and fall at a controlled pace, clearly making an effort to avoid panicking. 

"I-I'm sorry" Akira broke away from his gaze, attempting to blink away the still-falling tears. 

Maybe it was the lighting from below, but he could see just a small tinge of pink in the other's skin. "I know you're just a puppet, that I shouldn't care what happens to you, but  _ still _ I…" he trailed off "...let me get you back to the roof." 

He couldn't really place where they were. At least, far from they were supposed to be. The sound of clinking metal made company. He had found it strange since he entered the Palace, both Shadows had chains bounding them, but they never actually restricted them. They'd been used on Goro, sure, but "Why do you have those chains? It's not like they block your movement." 

"They don't let me leave the theater." he answered quickly. 

Was that all? 

Likely not, but he didn't feel like insisting. For all he knew, Akira could just get irritated and drop him. It didn't seem the case though, he was gentle while holding him. The soft sway as they flew and the warmth of the other in an otherwise freezing night… it was so tempting to let the weight of his eyelids catch up to him. Was this how Akira felt when he carried him through that void? No, Crow had spikes, and it didn't help that he had sharp claws for hands. Though he at least remembered loosening his grip to not draw blood. 

* * *

Once they landed back on the roof, Akira glided to the center, dropping cross-legged and resting his face on his hands, each elbow on top of a knee. 

A muffled sob escaped him. 

This was just a Shadow. Just like all the rest. The entire purpose of coming here was to give the thief some kind of catharsis, not to satisfy Akechi's curiosity on why, and  _ how,  _ did that seemingly indestructible soul become… this. And even knowing this, the assassin stepped closer. 

He could hear murmurs now, but he couldn't tell them apart. 

To this Shadow, he was one of his puppets. 

"What's wrong?" he sat on his knees just meters in front of the Shadow, trying for a voice just soft enough to show concern, but not enough for the prince facade to bleed through. 

Akira put his hands down. His eyes were puffy. 

"Enough for all this to exist" the Shadow almost laughed. A small smile tugged at his lips, looking at the ground with some sense of nostalgia, "I wonder how sadistic was Joker feeling today for him to send you over." or perhaps it was melancholy. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Oh, right, you don't- you don't actually have Akechi's memories…" he bit his lip, likely thinking over what he wanted to say, but giving up "whatever, you probably have the gist. You had a few plays this morning if I remember right." 

Akechi stayed silent. In the dark, Akira's eyes glowed, if only just slightly. They were so different to what he was used to, the gold only just highlighted it: tired, longing, resigned. He'd seen flashes of it before, but he'd always brushed it off as his imagination.

The winged student spoke, "It's strangely poetic, don't you think? For someone like me to fall in love with the Black Mask… " And now Akechi tinged pink "How stupid" Akira chuckled, almost fondly. 

Did his heart always beat at this rhythm?

_ Fall in love.  _

_ Such extreme words.  _

"Very much so." 

Akira stood up. 

Akechi mimicked him.

And then Akira hugged him. 

He was sure his heart's pulse spiked.

And yet the Shadow stayed steady, arms and feathers wrapped around him.

It was calming. 

He tried to return the embrace. 

It didn't feel terrible.

The teenager buried his face in Goro’s neck "I miss you so, so much…" he sobbed.

He'd be gone in nothing short of a few weeks. 

"I missed you too." 

* * *

He wasn't sure how long it took to pull away. The few times he tried, Akira would just hold him tighter. 

But he needed to return to the cold at one point.

"I…" Akira was trembling "I would wish for nothing more than to see you again"

_ Wish. _

_ "I only wanted to grant your wishes, each and every one… "  _

Ah. 

So that was how he was standing. 

How convenient. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was sitting in docs since october lmfaooooo
> 
> "you're not a monster either": unrelated to the "cogakechi" youll see in the main fic/akiren has scripts relating to dreams he's had, im not sure if ill mention it in the main thing though


	5. The Prisoner And The Warden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of Akechi and Akira's infiltration. Final area of the Palace.

Blue. 

No floor, no ceiling.

Blue and only blue, stretching out as far as he could see, only chains tied it all together, touches of platforms made of glass they could maybe jump to. 

Joker’s eyes widened significantly at the sight, and yet his tone was still firm. 

“Let’s go.”

And so, they jumped to the nearest place they could. 

When they landed, he turned, and found Kurusu clothed in stripes of black and white with chains tugging at his wrists.

* * *

  
  


A mirage, a spark of fruitless hope. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A person, a reminder of loneliness. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A mirror, a list of regrets.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A mask, a reassurance in pretending.

  
  
  
  
  


A chain, a prevention of mistakes.

  
  
  
  


A prison, a payment by guilt. 

  
  
  


The prisoner reaches out to its warden, hoping to never leave its side. 

The warden jumps, appearing to forget his lines. 

The theater master tries to break character to remind the actor,

but words fall on deaf wind.

The theater master is not sure if the actor knows that they should be playing pretend.

He tries again, 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


his mind is underwater 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


words couldn't reach.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


From the blurry haze, he sees a dark blue painted on black. A lifted mask of a bird, revealing the face of a brunette. _Strange, he isn't wearing the right costume._

  
  
  
  


The ill-prepared actor appears to be shouting. 

  
  
  
  
  


_He isn't following the script either._

  
  
  
  
  
  


The actor is desperate. 

  
  
  
  


The actor is pulling at the props, as if trying to drag the prisoner with him. 

  
  
  
  
  


The stage is infinite,

  
  


yet the floor is only so thin. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


The glass breaks, and the prisoner falls. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A cry is heard from afar. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The sensation of falling lasts. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It is stopped by claws catching the trapped.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The actor tries to breathe, 

  
  
  


slow the sudden spike in pulse. 

  
  
  
  
  


As expected, an unforeseen technical difficulty would make anyone nervous. 

  
  
  
  


It murmurs indistinguishable words, deciding it might be best to improvise. The play has already strayed too far, ending it quickly would be favored. Of course the theater master is terrified of this. In any normal circumstance, even in some strange ones, he would be ready, knowing the script so well he could even improvise. Especially now, in _this_ play, where the prisoner would fight valiantly and free itself from its chains. 

  
  
  
  
  


Here, though, only shades of a deep ocean fill his vision, looking to suffocate, a radio-static in the waves with muffled pasts ingrained, so fast in passing and blurred in recalling not even the theater master is sure if they are for him to remember.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And yet, he could only breathe in ice…

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_It's so cold..._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Strong arms keep him close, swaying gently as the crow jumps from place to place.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Delicate claws avoid drawing blood. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A heartbeat trying it's best to stay steady. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Crows are often an omen of death. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Was death always this soothing?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


An intake of breath. 

He opens his eyes, and finds himself in a small, cottage-like room. 

He hears embers of a fireplace.

The walls are filled with pictures. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol another one that's been on docs for months, and yes this is one of the scenes akechi references in previous one-shot!
> 
> uhh if youre reading the Actual fic (link on general notes!), i swear im working on it its just that i have nearly nothing already drafted and i keep writing shit for later in the fic


	6. Texts to a dead man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happens mid-palace.

Akira: Hey _11:50PM_

Akira: How are you? _11:50PM_

Akira: Are you doing okay? _11:50PM_

Akira: I know you weren't when we last talked, but it's always nice to ask, right? _11:51PM_

Akira: Maybe you _are_ doing okay, for all I know _11:51PM_

Akira: Maybe futaba just got it wrong, or you ran away before she made the analysis

Akira: And you just decided to leave everything altogether _11:51PM_

Akira: Which, i wouldnt blame you, if you did _11:51PM_

Akira: (let me know if you did btw :D we can schedule our rematch, keep in touch maybe, give me your not-celebrity insta, i know you have one and i don't want to ask futaba for it) _11:54PM_

Akira: it’d make sense, your life must have been hell, I can't imagine having to work for that bastard for so long _11:55PM_

Akira: so running away would make sense _11:55PM_

Akira: and itd make my mistake something that can be turned into something for the better _11:56PM_

Akira: id still feel guilty, though _11:56PM_

Akira: i should have reacted sooner _11:57PM_

Akira: i should have noticed you were in tight ropes sooner _11:57PM_

Akira: or well, no, i did notice _11:57PM_

Akira: but i didnt do anything about it _11:57PM_

Akira: i could have just… sat you down, talked things out _11:58PM_

Akira: youre capable of being civilized so its not impossible _11:58PM_

Akira: would the jazz club work for that? _11:59PM_

Akira: nobody would make a fuzz about you,and we could just sit in a corner, get a non-alcoholic drink or two like we always do even if i say ill try the liquor ones soon,talk about how much everything sucks _12:02AM_

Akira: and i would tell you that you deserve better _12:02AM_

Akira: and you would eventually tell me about shido _12:02AM_

Akira: and id help you take him down _12:02AM_

Akira: god his face was a joy to watch get destroyed, i wish you could have seen it _12:04AM_

Akira: would have loved to see your face after the conference too, he was bawling like an idiot _12:04AM_

Akira: maybe you could have come with us to mementos, but i guess thats wishful thinking _12:06AM_

Akira: didnt really go that great _12:06AM_

Akira: mona got mad at me _12:09AM_

Akira: i can hear you making that face you make when i do something stupid from here _12:09AM_

Akira: i dont know how to make it up to him _12:10AM_

Akira: youd probably say something like "let go of him" super politely or something, but i dont want to let go of him either _12:11AM_

Akira: everyone else feels really far away too _12:13AM_

Akira: every time i talk to them i feel like im missing something and it scares me _12:13AM_

Akira: i cant lose them _12:14AM_

Akira: i dont know what to do _12:15AM_

Akira: i dont know what to do, goro _12:49AM_

Akira: please help me _1:23AM_

Akira: i miss you _2:37AM_

On December 31st, Goro Akechi woke up to the sound of several phone beeps coming from his pocket, laying on an empty alleyway that led to the Diet Building. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 for the legit fic is over halfway done! I've been writing a lot of stuff for other chapters too and that's mostly why it's taking so long oops (+irl/editing insta stuff, you know how it goes :D). Hope your 2021's are going well!
> 
> edit: i Might end up adding this to the main fic. maybe. no promises.


	7. Daydreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mid-palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl this one's been on the draft for months, decided i wont use it for main fic lol

Akira could feel the sun's rays seeping through the window, although it was still strangely cold. A nap wasn't probably his best use of time (now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd willingly slept mid-afternoon), but he hadn't slept at all the night before and any attempt to do something productive to distract him from this fact had failed anyway; the last straw was dropping his own coffee, maybe if he'd decided to drink it instead he wouldn't be doing this. 

What if he had a meeting scheduled when he made that mess? 

In a perfect world, Akechi would probably be the first to arrive, simply because he always does, and sit at the second chair next to the door, simply because he always does. 

"What's with the mess?" he'd ask with a raised eyebrow and an exhausted voice, setting his case beside him, probably tired from his ride there and everything else that had happened to him. Maybe he'd be a little bit more polite, slightly more formal, but Akira's sure that most of what he'd seen back then was just a facade that had been destroyed. He was curious, in all honesty, to really grasp and see how far deep those scratches of bitterness went, but no matter, one could make a close guess.

"Ah," Akira would scratch the back of his neck, realizing there wasn't much to be done to save that show of flaw, and smile sheepishly "Just slipped, got lost in my mind, sorry about that" and he'd move to start cleaning (dry stains could easily turn into a problem, after all).

He would start some small talk, get Akechi to ask for something to drink or eat. Not much later Akechi would find a way to derail the conversation to the book he was reading on his way there, start ranting about how the author got a few details of detective work wrong. Akira would listen contently with the smallest hint of a smile as he brewed, noticing the glint in the brunette's eyes. Akechi would then point out how the book, while imperfect, had some interesting food for thought, and would ask Akira for his input. Akira would do so, and then a philosophy debate entirely unrelated to the book would spark. 

Some time into it, Makoto would arrive (she arrived first before Akechi joined, anyway). She'd give them both a greeting and a smile, sitting down a few seats away from Akechi. They'd share a few pleasantries, and Akira would ask if she wanted anything. She'd say "No, thank you, I ate just before coming here", before looking at him wide-eyed and-

* * *

"Akira, are you okay?" 

Maybe the Metaverse was creating an optical illusion, but she could have sworn the Shadow  _ glitched _ , however that would work. If he did, he didn’t realize it. 

"Hm?" he looked up from his syphon and furrowed his brows "What makes you say that? 

She tapped the skin below her eye. 

He mimicked her and found tears, feathers ruffling with the touch. 

He removed his finger and examined it "That's…" he frowned, and searched for a napkin to wipe his cheeks "there. Should be fine" 

"Are you sure?" she asked as gently as she could.

Another glitch. He doesn't acknowledge it, but it's followed by a new wave of watering eyes and fully materialized cuffs. 

He tried to wipe them off again, but they didn't stop. 

He huffed, mumbling something to himself, then sighed and put the napkin down.

As he did so, she could hear the muffled sound of something (glass? rubble?) crashing in the distance.

He smiled at Makoto, almost too sweetly, completely feigning ignorance of it "I'm fine, thank you for your concern though." 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look i Swear ive been working on the main fic,,,,,, i made significant progress on the next chapter recently +have been writing a lot for things later on (wont say what <3), it shouldnt be too long before i update it!


	8. Prelude to the heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> title is self-explanatory
> 
> also fun reminder theres a link to the full infiltration on the fic's general notes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ann POV

Did they feel severely underprepared, despite how much they did to brace themselves? Nobody said it, but the way the air hung between them hinted at it. 

The heist was usually one of the more exciting parts, watching the rollercoaster of events unfold from the second the target laid eyes on the Calling Card to the rush brought by the realization that the group accomplished their goal. She felt a little curl on her lip remembering the fear deep in Kamoshida's eyes, covered by just a few layers of rage that she'd unpeeled in that disgusting castle. She held that moment close, proud of herself for finally avenging Shiho and all they'd both have to endure under his claws. She wondered if the others had experienced that feeling at one point in their adventures. 

She'd watched and been part of a centuries' worth of stories with everyone in just a few months, she was almost sure there had to be. She glanced around the uneasy team, and wondered if those stories were starting to ache for them too.

They'd been at the outskirts of the venue since roughly 4AM, waiting for Akira to wake up and read the Calling Card. They couldn't risk him trying to stop them from going inside the Metaverse, so here they were, waiting for their cue to try and steal a Treasure from the one who had perfected the art. 

The theater loomed over them, the crowds that once flooded the area gone. It reminded her of a few movies she'd seen: perfect for a quiet holiday night, the melody of a soothing song echoed from inside, just enough for its hum to subtly reach them. A few lights were on here and there, but not nearly enough to consider the place active. It looked cozy and welcoming at first glance, but much like many of said films, it really only served as a prelude for what they were about to plunge into. 

Ryuji sat cross-legged, idly tracing lines on the floor with his baton. 

Morgana was laying on the ground, head towards the sky and almost unblinking. 

Makoto was pacing nervously, seeming to review things in her head as she made gestures to fill in her internal conversation. 

Yusuke was scribbling in his notebook, pencil speeding up and slowing down at random times. 

Haru had her hat in her hands, delicately petting the feathers. 

Futaba was focused on her laptop, occasionally looking up to the Palace and clicking something in her goggles. 

Ann was playing with her ponytails, a nervous tick she'd found herself doing more often lately. 

Akira usually did the same, tugging at his curly bangs every now and then. She always thought of it as a little moment of weakness behind that near-perfection. 

And sure, he had to deal with probation, the school, everything she and the rest had tangled him into (or tangled himself in? she couldn't tell), but he always seemed to brush it off, and confidently so. After all she'd seen, she felt dumb and guilty for not realizing that wasn't the extent of it sooner. She could only pray this mission would serve as part of the apology. 

He cared so much, even  _ here _ , at the core of his desires. Everyone looking so genuine, so  _ happy,  _ at the entrance, contrasted with the unnerving walls of Akechi's room, or that mirage of a prison at the depths of it all, threaded together by that small room filled with precious memories…

A thought crossed her mind.

It wasn't a good one. 

Akira blamed himself for Akechi's misfortunes, even if none of it was because of him.

If they didn't succeed here, then…

Her thoughts were interrupted and shattered by the lights on the theater multiplying, getting everyone to instinctively jump.

Two voices yelled at once, resonating through the city, one terrified and the other laughing.

" **_They’re on a suicide mission!_ ** " 

It made her tremble, the team was just as owl-eyed as her. 

_ You always say what the rest won't.  _

"Are we ready?" Makoto put her mask on.

Everyone nodded, and so it began. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have once again scrapped a several-months-old draft from main fic
> 
> (when i get to this part on the main thing imagine that this happens off-screen)
> 
> im making good progress on the main thing i promise <3


End file.
